Warts and All
by MapleleafCameo
Summary: Sometimes there are people in our lives that just need a good cursing. Rated K for fun and silliness.


**A/N: This is for my good, dear friend johnsarmylady, stalker extraordinaire and puller-outer of blue funks! You need to go and read her stories. Go now! And then come back and read this one. Because it's weird.**

**Do not own Sherlock or John, but I'll gladly share John with my friends and I promise he will always, always be in tight jeans.**

Warts and All

_Sometimes there are people in our lives that just need a good cursing._

John looked down at the ground.

The toad looked back at him.

John had a stern expression on his face.

The toad looked astonished and a little frightened.

"That will teach you to call Sherlock 'Freak' and to continually undermine and belittle his achievements."

The toad let out a slow, sad croak, one that could be interpreted as an apology, but John seemed to think the toad was asking to be changed back.

"No. I think you need to stay a toad for a little longer. I want this to be something you won't forget."

The toad croaked again, a slightly more melancholy croak.

John swooped down and carefully picked up the toad and placed it gently in the pocket of his coat.

"If you are thinking of relieving yourself while you are in there I will make sure you stay a toad for an entire week."

He gently patted the outside of the coat, and walked over to where everyone else was standing around the crime scene.

No one had seen anything strange going on. The entire exchange had taken place slightly around the corner of the building away from where the rest of the forensics team and NSY's finest were standing listening to Sherlock wrap up the most recent round of brilliant deductions before handing another criminal over to Scotland Yard. No one noticed John's return. He was as quiet and unobtrusive as usual.

John stood back, listened to his friend and was once again awestruck at the brilliance of the man in the dramatic coat. As the detective finished, a quiet pride settled in John's chest. He never became tired of listening to his best friend.

Sherlock whirled once more and strode over to where John was standing, his face beamed and he smiled at the doctor. John was one of the few people Sherlock smiled at sincerely.

"That was a particularly uninspired murderer. Who steals office equipment, having a particular obsession with phones, and uses it to bludgeon people to death. Honestly it would have been more been far more deadly if the killer had just talked about the uses of office equipment rather than hitting someone over the head with it. Much more creative and less messy! Shall we go?"

John smiled back. "Yes."

Sherlock did a double take, "Did something happen? You look very satisfied about something?"

John quirked an eyebrow at Sherlock. "No. Just standing here listening to your brilliance once again."

Sherlock looked more sharply at John, started to say something and then shrugged.

Greg stopped the pair as they walked by, "Have either of you seen Anderson? He just disappeared into thin air."

"Oh, yes. I'm sorry I was supposed to tell you. He was feeling a little under the weather. He looked an appalling shade of green so I told him to go home." John smiled benignly at Greg.

Greg swore slightly. "Always the last to know. Would be nice to know where people are once in a while. Fine, fine. There's a lot of flu going on. Just as well." Greg left muttering.

Sherlock and John made their way to the street and grabbed a cab.

oOo

Later That Night

Sherlock was actually asleep for the first time in ages. He had been pleased enough with the solving of the case to eat a decent meal and to let John watch an episode of Dr. Who without snarky comments.

John quietly crept down the stairs to the door and stepped outside. After carefully glancing around and ensuring the CCTV cameras were occupied looking in the other direction, he placed the toad gently onto the ground. The toad shuddered slightly. There was a warping of the air around it and from one second to the next a slightly disheveled and shaken Anderson replaced the toad.

John stood looking at him, with his arms crossed.

"Now here's how this goes down. You will cease and desist from calling Sherlock Freak. There will be no further talking and sneering about him behind his back. You will be supportive and attentive. Have I made myself clear?"

Anderson, who had been a toad for the better part of a day, strangely resembled a fish more as his mouth opened and closed. He was trying to mutter imprecations and threats about John under his breath.

"I think you had better stop and think about this, Anderson. Do you honestly believe anyone is going to believe that John H. Watson, mild mannered doctor and former Captain in Her Majesty's Army has the power to turn people into toads?' He laughed gently. "Anderson you are a fool. They are more likely to think you are drunk or high. It's taken me a long time to perfect my image. I usually _am_ a kind and compassionate individual," and John paused and crouched down to look Anderson in the eye and Anderson flinched at what he saw there. "Make no mistake. The next time you do or say anything to hurt my friend I will be far less kind or compassionate. And your fate will be far, far worse.' There was nothing warm-hearted or gentle in John's expression. Anderson gulped, nodded hurriedly, climbed to his feet and half stumbled, half ran down the street.

John watched him disappear and turned and went back into 221 Baker Street shutting the door quietly behind him.


End file.
